


Almost Gone

by destielpasta



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel's True Form, Episode: s04e20 The Rapture, Grace Sex, M/M, Masturbation, episode coda, jimstiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-04
Updated: 2014-05-04
Packaged: 2018-01-21 22:35:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1566479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destielpasta/pseuds/destielpasta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately follows the events of 4.20, The Rapture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Almost Gone

Jimmy Novak is saved.

Saved from a bullet wound to the abdomen and an afterlife full of guilt. He guesses that in time it'll feel like it was worth it, but now all he feels is the sting and roar of the wind as Castiel flies without abandon.

 _You could have let me say goodbye to my daughter._ He lets the words flow into Castiel's consciousness _._

Something like a stab of guilt pierces his stomach, but it isn't his own.

_I'm sorry. I thought... I thought it might be too painful for you._

Jimmy just scoffs, letting his mind mind drift away to the quiet space where he liked to pretend Castiel couldn't hear him. Maybe he would sleep for a little while, give Cas a taste of fucking soul-crushing loneliness.

_Jimmy._

He ignores the call. Cas knows how much he hates the flying part. How he likes to keep to himself. Cas is good for that. He doesn't try to comfort him, and he doesn't want him to start now.

They fly for a while, colors rushing past them and the tick of time slowing almost to a halt. Jimmy thinks about standing still, Amelia's fingers laced too tight with his as they walk through the park, Claire running ahead of them. It's an old memory, Claire's still in pigtails, and it doesn't come without it's own sting.

It had always been something. Before angels calling on him it was just a lot more close to earth. Amelia had suggested a doctor then, or a priest, anything to cure him and make their family normal again.

_Jimmy?_

Jimmy intends on fully ignoring the call again until he realizes that they're now upright, their feet flat on solid ground. He feels a gentle pressure and then he's able to see through his own eyes again.

_I can give you back control, for a while. Do what you must._

_What makes you think I want anything from you?_

Jimmy feels Castiel’s pang of guilt and resists rolling his eyes. Angels and their fucking sensitive feelings.

Castiel clears his throat. _Regardless, I’ll give it to you._

Being voluntarily exited, as opposed to having your angel squatter ripped from you by some heavenly assholes in grey suits, proves to be an interesting experience. He feels a tug at his neck and then it’s as if warm liquid is draining from his head to his toes. Slowly, he can move his fingers, then his toes, and then he’s in a hotel room with full control of his extremities again.

First thing he does is rip off his over coat and suit jacket, the heat almost suffocating. His fingers scramble at his tie, loosening it until it hangs almost undone from his neck. His breath rattles in his lungs, sobs scraping from his lungs and tears streaming down his face, from exhaustion or sensory overload or heart-break. Pick one. It’s uncontrollable.

His legs ache underneath him so he lets them collapse, dropping to his hands and knees on the ugly shag carpet.

“Fucking hell, Cas,” he says to the empty room, “Is this making you feel better?” His voice doesn’t sound like his own anymore, it still has the deep gravel that belongs to Castiel.

He grasps at the carpet, feeling each fiber scrape and catch on the dry skin of his hands. He tries to memorize the feeling of his shirt against his skin, soft with overuse and overwashing. Each rattling sob and pain in his knees is a fucking gift and a curse and he lowers his head to the floor from the weight of it.

If time passes, he doesn’t feel it. He wonders at Cas’s intentions; could he leave? Could he go home for a while, get some closure? Tell his daughter and his wife that he loves them?

No, he would never bother them again. Amelia could start to heal, for the first time since meeting him. Claire would grow up strong and with a memory of a father who saved her from an eternity of crushing servitude, if nothing else. He laughs at the thought, and it’s dark and cold, echoing of the dingy walls of the hotel room.

A cool draft cuts through the heat, caressing his face and drying his tears to nothing but tracks. It winds around his neck and down his arms to hands. He feels a gentle tug, and then he’s upright, walking towards the bed. He lays down with a creak of the springs.

_I know I can never bring you relief from what’s happened to you._

Cas’s true voice is strange, but not unpleasant. He’s told him before that to other humans it’s like torture, deafening and alien.

Jimmy flings an arm over his eyes, pressing down and waiting for the stars to burst behind his eyelids. He wonders if Cas’s vessel-less form really is invisible, or if he’s just sparing him. Regardless, the whole cool breeze thing is a nice idea.

_This will more than likely be the last time I can do this._

Jimmy laughs again, feeling the bed shake under him. “Some sort of heavenly loophole? Can’t be out of your vessel for longer that a few minutes?”

There’s moment before Castiel responds. He feels the cool breeze move over him before settling near his right side.

_No. I just want to leave you in peace now. You denied yourself heaven, and I don’t have any intention of torturing you._

Jimmy sighs. Eternal oblivion in his own head. Never having to think again. Peace sounds nice.

“I don’t know what happened to my life,” he says.

He feels the cool breeze move as he drops his arm to his side. Castiel hovers above him, pure, quivering energy and sound. He guesses light too, but a light he can’t see. He raises a hand, touching the edge of it with his fingertips, feeling the shudder as if he had touched a forcefield.

He lowers his arm. “Sorry,” he mutters, too tired and apathetic to feel guilty.

_No need. It’s not unpleasant._

Jimmy waits a moment before raising his hand again, tentatively brushing his fingers through the breeze, feeling the shudder again and something that sounds like a hitch of breath.

“That’s pretty human, Cas,” he says without stopping the movements.

_We aren’t so different._

His arm tires, and he lowers it. To his mild surprise, Castiel lowers himself with it, settling close enough that there’s only a breath between them.

“Cas.” It tumbles from his lips before he can stop it, overwhelmed by the warmth spreading from his eyebrows down to his legs. No longer a cool breeze, Cas’s form feels more present, solid and heavy against him.

_I can stop._

“No,” he breathes, feeling a blush spread from his neck to his face. I want to feel something other than pain, he thinks to himself.

Whether Castiel was listening to his thoughts or not, the warmth immediately deepens, seeping into his muscles. He relaxes, pleasure and pressure coiling in his stomach.

Castiel moves over him like liquid, brushing over bare skin despite the fact that he is still fully clothed. It’s his turn to shudder, grasping at the pillow above his head and arching into it. Hands, numerous and heavy, stroke down his chest, pull at his hair. There’s a pressure at his lips and he lets his mouth fall open, the heady approximation of a kiss. The warmth fills him, spilling into his mouth and spreading to the tips of his fingers.

It’s nothing like possession, and Jimmy clings to it.

 _I feel what you feel,_ Castiel says simply, his voice trembling.

Jimmy bites the meat of his own hand, stifling a moan. He doesn’t waste much more time, sliding his hands down to his belt buckle, the clink of the metal near deafening as he undoes it with shaking hands. He rips at the button and zipper, hissing when his hand brushes against his aching hardness. Castiel sends another shock of vibrating pleasure through him and he groans as he finally gets his pants out of the way, pooling around his ankles and catching around his still-tied shoes.

Sighing, he finally wraps a hand around his cock. He’s already wet with precome, and he gives himself a few slow strokes. Castiel doesn’t breathe, but he pulses inside of him, his true-voice a hoarse whisper in Jimmy’s ear.

_Come on._

Jimmy can’t help but moan at that, shifting so that he can get a better grip, his strokes quickening as if an invisible hand eggs him on. Fingers lace with his, and he bucks his hips into the thrusts, delicious heat building in his abdomen as he shudders from his own ministrations. His other hand pulls at his hair, Castiel channeling energy and suffocating heat into every thrust.

His feet snag and slip on the sheets and he moans without inhibition, thrusting wildly into his and Castiel’s hand until he comes with a dry sob, rubbing himself furiously through it as Castiel’s moans fill his head, rough and otherworldly.

His breathing slows and the hum of his body begins to fade. He feels the sensation of draining again, the warmth replaced with the cool draft from a few minutes ago. Cas hovers beside him, settling onto the bed as if he had a corporeal form.

There’s come drying on his stomach, and it’s annoying in that minor way, but not enough to make him move. The shame he feels is old and far away, from another man’s life; not enough to cling to anymore.

Castiel is getting antsy beside him; he can feel it like a quivering bolt of electricity.

“Just gimme a minute, Cas,” he says softly.

He takes stock of his body. Ten long fingers attached to a wide palm, he watches them flutter in front of his eyes, the muscles and tendons pulling and dancing under his skin. Thick, hard legs, cultivated from marathon after marathon. He runs his fingers through his hair, course but soft, longer than he would normally have it, but still him. He wishes he could burn the suit that he had sold his last AM radio ad time slot, but it appears that it’ll be his outfit forever.

Castiel shifts, perking up. “Got a call?” Jimmy asks.

_Not one I’ll be answering._

Jimmy laughs, just a quick and bitter exhalation. “You’re just like me. Doomed to loneliness.”

_I don’t see the need for dramatics._

He smiles, “Asshole.” After a moment, he grabs a tissue from the bedside table, cleaning himself up haphazardly. “Don’t leave Dean hanging too long, you know what it takes to get that guy to pray.”

_I have to stay away from Dean._

Jimmy shrugs. “You know that’s not gonna happen.”

Castiel shifts, his form wrapping around Jimmy’s wrists and moving up his arms. Jimmy takes a deep breath, the exhalation slow and shaky.

“Is this it?”

_I promise this time, your family will be safe._

“Your promises don’t mean much, Cas. But thanks anyway.”

Castiel waits to ask this time, moving over him slowly and respectfully until their minds are one and Jimmy hears the question echo in his mind.

He says yes.

 

 


End file.
